


red tide

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: Drabble, Guilt, Light Angst, No one's gonna read this lol, Other, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Uchiha Itachi-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: the tide is red, flowing crimson with his guilt.or:alone in the water, itachi uchiha faces the judgment of heaven.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	red tide

**Author's Note:**

> **red tides** are results of algal blooms, which are triggered by the upwelling of aquatic nutrients from the sea floor. because these blooms produce natural toxins, red tides are known for being _poisonous_ to marine life and humans.

You outstretch your hands over the calm surface of the water, silver droplets dripping like snowflakes over your eyelids. The world is hazy and faint, with only ice cold beneath your feet and smoke in your ribs. A host of angels, blazing with holy fire, watches over you, waiting to bring you up.

And prepared to cast you down.

Their voices are loud and clear like the song of a thousand waters, ushering in psalms of praise as sunbeams filter through the silver clouds like notes in their chorus. The sound is frightening — it’s a sound you’ve only ever heard in the dead of night, a sound like thudding and scraping and desperate fingernails on floorboards.

A faint echo resounds from the deep, and in the water’s reflection you see Someone standing there, looking as you once were long ago. Your tiny brother is in his arms, fragile neck and legs cradled in his palms. His eyes are clear and glassy, but he cannot see anything but the blinding light of the sun shower above.

Perhaps it’s a dream, or rather a memory; your brother exhales a deep breath underneath God’s gaze, a moment of shock melting away into awe. 

It comes back to you now: a moment in the lake when he was only five. He had been wading towards you, and you had been there to hold him when his head sank under.

“Sasuke, don’t come here; the water is too deep.”

The black hair disappeared first, then his grasping arm, and like a sweeping gust of wind you appeared; and in his eyes he was your angel, your Savior. His thin chest now breathes ragged above the surface, his wrists making ripples that distort heaven’s reflection.

“I told you not to come,” you choke, and your brother slips like teardrops through your bloody fingers.

The sky shatters. The sound is deafening, rending your soul in two as a hollow scream awakens the dead drowning underneath you.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, ITACHI?

God’s voice rings loud and clear, the angels taking up the harmony: the sound of innocent voices pleading for mercy, only to be muffled by slaughter. His voice is in the sky, and it rumbles in the deep. You cannot answer, for it sounds familiar.

It sounds like you.

In fear you lower her head, your teeth beginning to gnash, your hands desperately wiping the blood onto your cloak. The reflection of the sky collapses as the clear mirror ripples until all you can see are _their_ faces, open-mouthed, white-eyed in the disturbed water.

A gleaming sword, the accusatory finger of your angelic judges, points to the body floating face down in front of you.

Shisui is blind and mute, quiet and still just as he was drifting in the river. Your mind takes you back to the memory of that day like a cruel trick: feet frozen stiff on the edges of the cliff, yearning to follow him but being pulled away. You had been too high up to see the blood streaming down into the Nakano.

In horror you turn your face away; but you can never hide from the eyes of heaven.

 _How did it feel,_ the hosts of heaven shriek, _When you_

  


_Entered through his bedroom door_

  


_Yanked him by the wrist_

  


_Pulled his leg as he tried to escape?_

  


“I found him in the closet,” you cry out. “He was clutching his blanket.”

_And did you stab him in the chest?_

_Fool, he was only a child._

Cold hands, stiff with death, grasp at your ankles in their vindication — eyes upturned towards the sky, you let yourself drown with them, blood seeping into the water and tinging it crimson with your guilt. And yet you still plead:

“Forgive me! Torment me no longer!” 

God frowns. With the resounding of a trumpet the host draws their swords, golden wings beating and scattering the four winds. Closing your eyes — for you cannot rebel any longer — you wait for them to descend.

Liquid fills your mouth and ears and swallows your chest whole. Blazing flame grows nearer and hotter, and an arm shoots up for them to grab and cast you into hell.

You do not expect the sudden gust of wind that holds judgment back. It carries with it the scent of hope and pain.

He stands as a dark silhouette against the edge of the horizon. Hope rises within as you lean towards your savior, and your bones break when you see your executioner.

He looks just as you had last seen him; tattered and bruised, his dark eyes and unkempt hair as clear as the haunting visions that torment you even in death. 

“Sasuke, stay away.”

Will he come to slay you? Or is it rescue?

“Sasuke, the tide is red,” you cry out again; for whichever it would be, you can’t bear to seem him tainted. Black eyes, identical to your own, sparkle and reflect as they did on that day; but he does not see his Savior. Rather, you see yours.

“You cannot come,” And your voice sounds far away before it dies in your throat.

Your brother’s sword is gone from his hand as he draws nearer, the silver light of the sun peeking through the linings of the clouds illuminating the smile on his face — gentle, loving, reverent. _Don’t come closer,_ your heart sobs, _I don’t deserve this. Dear god, torment me no longer!_

He wades through the water until his arms embrace you, drenched in the blood you have spilt.

  


“I love you,” he says, and the angels ascend.


End file.
